


Take Me In Pieces, Break Me Down Slowly

by boltschick2612



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Chicago Blackhawks, Ficlet Collection, M/M, New York Rangers, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltschick2612/pseuds/boltschick2612
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of short fics originally posted on my Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written after a tweet in which Jacob Markstrom detailed how he was blissfully fishing in Sweden with his buddy, Lindy. I couldn't help but picture Victor sulking at home with their fictional puppy, which of course, Lindy insisted they name after Rinne. And no, Victor isn't jealous about that too, thanks for asking.
> 
> Fiction is fiction.

Victor's sitting on the couch, looking at the TV, but not really watching it, when he feels something cold and wet poking at his hand. He doesn't have to look to see what it is, he already knows. When he hears a high pitched whine, followed by a low bark, he looks down anyways. He can't help but let a small smile play on his lips when he sees Peks, aggressively wagging his tail over the slight bit of attention Victor is paying him.   
  
Victor watched as the puppy poked at his hand with his nose again, no doubt trying to get Victor to pet him. Ever since Anders had left to go back to Sweden for the summer, their new puppy had been doing nothing but getting under Victor's feet. At first, he found it irritating, but in the last few days, he actually started to feel incomplete if Peks wasn't by his side.   
  
"I know, I miss your daddy too, but he'll be home soon. Just as soon as he's done fishing with other Swedish goalies."   
  
Victor makes sure to put extra emphasis on the word 'goalies', like he was implying that maybe Anders thought less of Swedish defensemen, like maybe they weren't good enough for him. Not that Peks understands a thing he's saying anyways, and not like Victor is even the slightest bit jealous. But really. Out of all people, a goalie for the Panthers? Aren't they supposed to be like, sworn enemies or something?

  
Victor is pulled from his thoughts by another poke to his hand. When they first got the dog, Victor insisted that Peks not be allowed on the furniture, and Anders just shook his head and told Victor he'd be changing his mind before he knew it. And of course, that's exactly what he was doing now. Victor patted the seat of the couch beside him, and gave the 'up' command in Swedish. Because of course Anders only taught the puppy commands in their native language. Of course he did.   
  
"We won't tell your daddy he was right."   



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally written from a Tumblr prompt, something along the lines of 'person A sees his messed hair in the mirror and blames person B.'
> 
> So, I couldn't help but think of Teddy and Matt.

Teddy faced the bathroom mirror, the look of frustration on his face growing as he took in the disheveled appearance of his dark hair. This really was all Matt’s fault. 

Well, Teddy thought he should share a little of the blame. It wasn’t like he had really tried to stop Matt from weaving his fingers through his hair, and tugging just ever so slightly. None the less, he was having too much fun cursing Matt silently in his mind. 

He licked his index and middle finger, and ran them over the wayward strands, trying to smooth them back into place. He might have succeeded too, if it weren’t for Matt coming up behind him, sliding his hand around his waist, and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

Teddy shot a stern glance at Matt out of the corner of his eye, trying to ignore the tinkering laugh that was coming from Matt. 

"Did someone ruffle your feathers, duckling?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this for [Blueabsinthe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe), but she said I could share it with the world. 
> 
> Written to take place before Vinny was bought out by the Lightning, and around the time there were plenty of trade rumors going around involving my personal fave, Ryan Malone. Story alludes to the pairing of Lecavalier and Malone, and may even go along with the [We Were Emergencies](http://archiveofourown.org/series/37608) series, or may stand alone.

Vince has been in this room more times than he could count; the day Steve was named General Manager, and Guy was named Head Coach. He's been in Steve's office so many times, but Vince doesn't remember it ever being like this. The air is stale, and suffocating. He feels like every breath he takes in might burn inside his lungs. His legs ache from standing, even though Steve had offered him the chair across from where he was seated behind his rich mahogany desk. Vince had declined, in a snippy tone, saying he wouldn't be staying long. The silence that hangs in the air is deafening as Vince's breath escapes him in short bursts, and his head still reeling. He can hear Steve's even, shallow breathing, and the strokes of Steve's pen as it drags over the rough paper in front of him.   
  
Vince is suddenly having a hard time remembering any of the conversation that took place after he barged into Steve's office, demanding to know just what in the hell this trade business was all about. Steve's voice finally breaks through the silence, and Vince shoots his gaze to the floor to avoid his eyes, only to see that Steve isn't even looking at him.   
  
"Look Vincent, truth is, he spends far too much time on IR, and we need someone now."   
  
Steve keeps his eyes trained on the paper laying in front of him, seemingly uninterested in the matter at hand.   
  
"He's agreed to waive his No Trade Clause to go back to Pittsburgh, and they seem pretty confident they got someone we could use."   
  
The anger crashes over Vincent like the waves against the rocky shore. His whole world is falling down around him, and he can't even get his GM - and friend - to look him in the eyes.   
  
"Damn it, Steve, would you fucking look-" The words explode out of Vince's mouth before he has a chance to stop them, and before Steve's last sentence has a chance to reach his brain. "Wait. Did you say he wants this? Ryan wants to leave?"   
  
Vince's sudden outburst doesn't grab Steve, he doesn't even flinch. But the last words to leave Vince's mouth, and the hurt he couldn't hide, finally get Steve's attention. He lifts his gaze towards Vince with a cocked eyebrow, and he keeps his voice soft and even.   
  
"Want is probably too strong a word. He just said that he would if asked. And really, I think it's the best thing for the team, don't you?"   
  
_"Don't ask me that, dear God don't ask me that,"_ Vince thinks as he swallows hard around the lump in his throat. He knows if this were a year ago, before he and Ryan had become...whatever the hell they are...his answer would be a lot different. A year ago, Vince wouldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of his professional opinion. Was Steve right? Probably. Maybe.   
  
Does Vince want Ryan torn from his grasp? Absolutely not. And there's a part of him that gets furious when he thinks that Ryan would willingly agree to leave his side. The more and more the anger grows, the more Vince realizes the anger isn't meant for Ryan, but for himself. Things were never meant to get this far, this entwined. Vince can't separate his two lives anymore. It scares and infuriates him.   
  
In the back of his mind, Vince vaguely registers the sound of Steve's chair scraping over the carpet as he pushes it back. He keeps telling himself in his mind that he isn't supposed to...isn't allowed to...fall for Ryan, distracting him to the point that he barely catches Steve's movements as he slowly pads across the room. It isn't until Vince feels warm hands slide down his bare arms, grabbing and pulling him closer, that all his thoughts finally cease.   
  
Vince stares at Steve across the minute, charged space between them, and he's at a loss for words. He's held speechless when the tip of Steve's tongue slowly drags over the corner of his upper lip, and the light in his eyes changes in an instant. Vince is so mesmerized, he almost doesn't register Steve's words.   
  
"Is there some reason we should keep him here?"   
  
Vince closes his eyes, and slowly shakes his head. He can't allow himself to fall, not that hard. "No."  
  
Steve pulls him closer, until his lips are brushing over Vince's and they're breathing the same breath. He whispers, and it shakes Vince to the core.   
  
"Because the way you said his name...I could swear there's something going on between you."  
  
Vince lets his eyes drop to the top button of Steve's dress shirt, and he starts fumbling with the small plastic button. He dips his head, and trails his lips over the hollow of Steve's throat, and upward until his nose is brushing over the spot behind Steve's ear. Vince fills the air with a whisper, and he knows it's the hardest thing he's ever said.  
  
"Nothing. There's nothing."   
  
He can't let himself love Ryan.

 

 


	4. Things you said with too many miles between us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I found this on Tumblr and don't even remember writing it. 
> 
> It was to fill a prompt of 'Things you said with too many miles between us,' filled for Blueabsinthe.
> 
> Pair is Henrik Lundqvist and Brad Richards, written to take place the summer of 2015, after Richards and the Blackhawks *chokes back a sob* won the Cup.

"I really wish you could be here to see it. It's just...wow," Brad says, the phone jammed between his ear and shoulder, being held in place to keep both his hands free. He fidgets with his beer, picking at the label before swirling the cold liquid around in the dark brown bottle. He normally hates the rare moments where he doesn't know what to say, but the sight of the tall, silver trophy sitting on the deck in front of him has him at a loss for words, and he just had to share it with a certain someone, even if they are so far away. 

Brad sits back in the chaise, and props his feet up on the foot rest. It really is beautiful, the way the sun is setting out on the water, throwing a silver gleam over the smoothness of the Cup, highlighting every curve of the names engraved on it. He had almost he was holding the phone, until Hank's voice came over the line once again. 

"I've seen it. Last year, actually, as they were giving it away to someone else, remember?"

Hank's words might have been sharp and bitter, but his tone wasn't. Or maybe, Brad just didn't want to believe that Hank was upset when he was so far away and unable to do anything to soothe him.

"Should've been ours. Should've been ours together," Brad says, bits of sadness lacing his voice.

Damn it. He had been determined to make it through the entire call without his voice cracking, or showing the pain of the distance between them. So much for that. 

Brad musters together his strength, best he can, but his voice still shakes slightly at the end, but he plays it off as laughter. "I have no doubt you get it one day, Hank, and more than twice."

"It doesn't matter, as long as I still have you."

Brad smiles at that. "Of course you will."

**Author's Note:**

> I also hang out on [Tumblr.](http://boltschick2612.tumblr.com/)


End file.
